


Into the Valley of Shadow

by jayemgriffin



Series: Godhunter [5]
Category: Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Gen, TBD AU, TBD Dark!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayemgriffin/pseuds/jayemgriffin
Summary: Everyone knows that strange things can happen at a crossroads.





	1. In a Vision, or in None

She pinned the little white card that he’d left up on her wall, where it joined a mass of newspaper articles, photocopied pages, and Post-It notes, all connected by, yes, string. She’d been stupid to think it would have been helpful. Her goal had been information, maybe some advice, and instead, she’d received a riddle.

She hated riddles.

Snatching a binder off the shelf at random, she flipped it open. The Pesedjet. Fine. As good a place to start as any. She sat down and pulled out a blank pad of paper as she paged back to the very first section, titled “Creation” in Kay’s jagged handwriting. Her head throbbed. This was surely completely pointless. There was no way the answer would be so obvious as to be written down, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“In the beginning,” she muttered under her breath, and began writing. Like Kay used to say, it was a good start.

-

Somewhere between Aphrodite and Apocatequil, her phone rang. She picked it up without looking. 

“Mars, are you doing anything tonight?” Lùz sang through the phone. “Mama has the girls until Thursday, and I’ve been hearing about this new club I’m dying to try.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I have research to do.”

“You know it’s okay to have fun once in a while, don’t you?”

“It’s not that, I just-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She could hear the gentle exasperation in Lùz’s voice. “Well, let me know if you get sick of hitting the books, okay? You’re only gonna be young once, Marcia.”

She rolled her eyes, but with a smile. “Yeah, I will.”

“I mean it!”

“I know. I’ll give you a call.”

-

Hours later, she threw the final binder to the floor in a fit of pique. It didn’t look like finding answers was going to be the problem; on the contrary, she’d found hundreds of them. It seemed that there were as many ways of springing into being as there were gods. Most were born like humans, but some hatched from eggs or spawned from body parts or just sprung out of the earth fully formed. If there was a common thread, she couldn’t identify it.

What if it was a trick? Had he met with her just to send her on a wild goose chase through millennia of lore? Damn everything, she should have known better. There wasn’t an answer at all, was there? She dropped her head to the table and let out a groan.

“Hell, you’re pathetic.” Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with the woman sitting across from her. She was surprisingly young-looking, though there were a few streaks of silver in her reddish-brown hair. She took a drag on her cigarette and smiled darkly at Mars. “Really. You really thought talking with one of them was going to get you anywhere? Did I teach you anything or not?” She pushed back her chair and stood, walking to the single window. “And this place is a wreck. When’s the last time you cleaned your guns? When’s the last time you _used_ your guns?” Her hazel eyes were cold. “I used to wonder why people didn’t think we were related, but I’m starting to see it now. How anyone with my blood could be this weak is beyond me.”

“I - “ she started to say, but the words caught in her throat, mixed with tears. Then she blinked, and she was alone in the room. Like she had been for months.

-

“Mars?” Lùz sounded frantic. “Chica, where have you been? It’s been three days!”

“What? Really?”

“It’s Saturday! What the hell have you been doing?” She pulled her phone away to check the date.

“Lùz, I need to go out.”

She moved the phone away from her ear again, but not soon enough to save her from Lùz’s shriek of delight.


	2. A Tighter Clasp

Lùz had made her do two shots of tequila (against her better judgement) before they even thought about leaving. It felt good, but stepping into the Crossroads was an entirely different level of high. The flashing lights, writhing bodies, and the bass that throbbed through the club had her just on the edge of sensory overload. At the same time, she couldn’t stop running risk assessments in her head: bartender with his hands below her line of sight, puffy vest in the overly warm crush of people, bumps that could equally be too-tight jeans or concealed weapons... It was also very possible that, given the smells in the air, she could end up with a contact high.

And then there were the Scions.

She’d felt it as soon as she stepped in. Apparently her brain wasn’t quite so overloaded that she forgot her priorities; she picked them out almost immediately. There were two at a table, a youngish couple who looked a little too punk for this place, bickering passionately about (from what she could catch) a literal bone of contention. An older man with short maroon hair lounged in a corner. He looked like he was simply enjoying his drink, but she caught the flickers of hands exchanging cash and plastic baggies – too smooth and quick to be anything but professional. The last one, a tall man in a top hat and vest, moved fluidly through the dance floor, the seating area, and the bar like he owned the place. Judging by how the employees looked at him, he probably did.

Her hand went to her hip before she remembered that she’d left her sidearm at home on purpose. That wouldn’t stop her; Kay had made sure she was just as proficient in hand-to-hand. Regardless, she wasn’t going to start a melee in here, surrounded by (relatively) innocent mortals. The drug dealer would be the easiest to get alone if she posed as a customer. Then she could probably start a fight with the punk guy and take it outside. His girlfriend would probably follow, so she should be prepared to handle two at once. Tricky, but not impossible. Damn, but the club owner would be difficult. People would notice if he up and vanished, unless maybe he left with someone…

A hand against her shoulder jolted her out of her train of thought. “I know you’re thinking about work,” Lùz yelled over the music. “Stop it, and drink this.” A glass appeared in her hand, and she took a sip automatically. It was so sweet she nearly gagged, and she handed it back to Lùz.

“What is that? No, no, you drink that garbage.” She shook her head and pushed the glass back towards Mars.

“It’s not garbage, it’s a Sex on the Beach! And I already have something.” The ice in her half-empty glass clinked as she shimmied a little to the music. “Finish that, and then you can get the next round.”

“The next round?” she half-shouted. Lùz didn’t respond, but she didn’t really expect her to. She set her shoulders, plugged her nose, and downed half the vile pink syrup at once. When she looked up, Lùz was laughing.

“That’s more like it! Come on, Mars, let’s dance!” Before she could protest, she was being pulled out onto the floor.

-

Either Lùz had connections she didn’t know about, or she’d managed to visit the man with the maroon hair when Mars hadn’t been looking. She couldn’t decide which of those possibilities worried her more, so instead she looked suspiciously at the small, brightly-colored tab. “This is incredibly illegal.”

“Mars, you’re basically a mercenary. I bet you committed your first felony before high school.”

“It wasn’t really _my_ felony, I was an accomplice. And that was different. It was the right thing to do. Nobody got hurt.”

Lùz rolled her eyes. “Who’s gonna get hurt if you just try a little something new?”

“Do you really want me to tell you about the human cost of the illegal drug trade?”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous. Fine. If you don’t want it, give it to me. I’ll save it for next time.”

“You’re part of the problem!” She stood there unblinking, hand out.

“Either take it or give it. Your choice.” Her brown eyes sparkled with the challenge. It was probably just a trick of the light that made them appear a very familiar hazel for a split second, but it was long enough.

The tab melted on her tongue, leaving a lingering aftertaste of pepper and allspice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, I didn't name the club, but it was too good to change. Also, Lùz thinks Mars works for a kind of sketchy security firm.


	3. Grains of the Golden Sand

She vaguely remembered that the club had been dark when she came in, but now everything was bathed in a warm white light. She recognized the light, but it wasn’t traumatic this time. Just kind of pleasant. Yeah. This was nice.

A light, serene feeling flowed through her, and she smiled at no one in particular. Wait. No. There was someone there. Tall, top hat, black-and-silver cane. He bowed to her. “Can I get you anything, miss?”

Miss. That was funny, so she laughed. She wasn’t fancy enough to be a miss. “No, thanks. ‘m all set.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely true. I think you’re looking for something.”

“Sure I am. Isn’t everybody?”

“Isn’t everybody, indeed. Can I ask what it is? Maybe we can make a deal.”

“What are you gonna ask for? My soul?” She heard herself giggling. She sounded so much younger. He responded with a flawlessly charming smile.

“It is traditional.” Was he joking? She couldn’t tell, but she laughed anyway.

“Sorry, then, I don’t have one anymore. It got stolen.”

“A tragedy, indeed.”

“Maybe. I don’t think I miss it.” That was funny. She giggled again.

“You have a point. Maybe souls are overrated.” His smile was a little too toothy this time.

“I guess I can ask anyway, right?” She beamed at him. Even sitting down, she had to look up to meet his eyes. “You’re really tall.”

“Is that your question?” He sounded amused.

“No, that’s just true. Where do gods come from?”

That surprised him. “What?”

“That’s what I need to know. Where gods come from.”

“Why do you-“ He cut himself off. “I don’t know that I have that particular answer, but I might know someone who does. Wait here.”

“Sure thing,” she chimed back at him in a singsong voice. Wait. Where was here? She was definitely sitting down, which was good, because she didn’t want to stand. There was something hard and flat under her forearms, and it fortunately supported her weight when she slumped forward. There was a very faint thumping off in the distance, sort of like a heartbeat.

There was someone else in front of her now. She wasn’t sure if the first man had left or just changed. This one seemed vaguely familiar, though she didn’t think she knew anyone with – she squinted – purple hair? She smiled at him just in case.

“My god, what the hell did you take?” His voice sounded amused.

“I’d think you would know that better than anybody.” Why was she saying that? It seemed to make sense to her, though, and apparently also to him, because he laughed.

“Easy said you had some kind of philosophical question.”

“And you’re a philosos – philoff – “ She gave up on the word. “You’re a thinker?”

He flashed a roguish smile. “Amongst other things. What are you curious about?”

“Where do gods come from?”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, you’re diving right on in.” He flicked his wrist, like he was dealing invisible cards. “Where do you think they come from?”

She frowned at him. “S’not an answer.”

“No, but it’s a good start.” For half a heartbeat, the words sliced through the fog she was caught in. _Kay._ That’s why she was here. For Kay.

“So?” He interrupted her thoughts. He gestured a heavy square glass filled with rum, though she couldn’t fathom where he’d gotten it from. “Any ideas?”

Of course she had ideas - she’d been studying this her entire life. Even before the - even before. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and she extended her hand to count on her fingertips. “They’re born, some of them. Most of them? Born like normal people, mom and dad and all that. Even if it’s weird like. What’s his name. Wine and theatre. With the thigh.” She tried to tap her pointer finger and missed. She got it the second time, though. “Some of them are hatched. Lot of Titans like that, but some gods too. Or there was something already there, and it got transmutt- changed into a god, somehow. And sometimes…” Her voice trailed off. Sometimes Scions became gods. Should she say that to a Scion? She looked up at him, debating.

The man with the purple hair met her eyes, looking equally amused and intrigued. “Are you done?” She wasn’t, but she nodded. “Okay. How do you know all that?”

“I’ve… studied.” She could feel her caution returning in slow waves. “I’ve done research. Read a lot. Talked to people. Googled.”

“And what did you get out of it?”

“What I just told you,” she snapped. He was starting to remind her unpleasantly of the being who’d posed the question in the first place. “Where gods come from.”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so.” He smiled smugly. “If that’s what you found out, why are you asking me?”

She didn’t bother to stop the frustration seeing into her voice. “Because I don’t _know_.”

He leaned in, and she mirrored him unconsciously. “Why don’t you know?”

“Does _anybody_ know? They’re just stories!”

His eyebrows quirked at her. It felt like she’s said something important. “They are, aren’t they?” His grin widened, and her blood ran cold with realization. In one motion, he stood, finished his glass, and turned to leave, throwing her a wink over his shoulder. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

She watched him vanish back into the crowd of the nightclub. Somehow, she was back where she started, if she ever even left. And then she was shoving through the crowd, towards the door. The knowledge sat in her mind like a bullet in a gun.

Gods are stories.


End file.
